


Shooting Stars and Silver Moons

by orphan_account



Category: Music RPF, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Absurdism, Alternate Universe - Artists, Bars and Pubs, Coffee Shops, Dan and Phil are just along for the ride, Existentialism, How Do I Tag, Kisses, Meet-Cute, Multi, Platonic Cuddling, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning, Songfic, Troye is a cinnamon roll, Troye is an aspiring muscian, Tyler is a youtuber, Tyler is my best friend, i can't tag worth shit lol, i fail at writing, past emotional abuse, who is also a sinnamon roll
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-02 09:32:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8662351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Life is a constant fight for survival and individuality in a universe that gives no fucks. Dating is finding someone who's teeth won't tear your skin. Tyler's skin is littered with the ever healing bites of others. He's given up on love, till he meets Troye Sivan. Life suddenly isn't so cold and lonely anymore.





	1. what the hell am i doing here? i don't belong here.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daylightstrider](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daylightstrider/gifts).



> i wanted to post this all at once, but i couldn't bring myself to. I cut it into pieces so i can post them as chapters. 
> 
> for my waifu hay who is the only person who can handle my memeness. ily.

Tyler sees him first in a bar, where all the greatest love stories start. It's a small place nestled away from the usual hustle and bustle of New York's counterculture. The lights inside are pale blues and pinks and the air is tinged with smoke. 

No one is noisy or loud or drunk. So Tyler knows Dan took him here for something other than a good time. 

"There's this kid who just came here," he explains in a low whisper as one dark skinned girl finishes her set onstage, "He doesn't look like much but his voice is amazing." 

Tyler raised an eyebrow, "I'm not in the mood for one of your hipster bands, Dan." 

"You're still upset about Joey-" 

It's not a question. Tyler sends him a warning glance, but that just presses him further. 

"Tyler, you've got to move on. And you know what they say, ‘The best way to get over one man is to get under another one.” 

 

“Girl bye,” Tyler groaned, “ Don’t act like some suave bad ass. You were a hermit for, like, two weeks after Phil went back to London. He came back because he didn’t want your sorry ass crying on Skype.” 

 

Dan pouted, “Here I am, trying to help a dear friend, and I get sass.” 

 

Tyler smirked, “There’s a point to this, I assume?” 

 

“All I’m saying is, he’s cute. You’re cute. Be cute together.”

Tyler was about to open his mouth in rebuttal when he appeared. All soft brown hair and eyes too big for his face. Every pair of eyes are hyper focused on this gorgeous boy.. No one inhales from the hookah stationed at their tables. No one blows cigarette smoke. 

They all want to hear this boy with arms and legs too long for his body. Even Tyler must admit that he leaned forward on his elbows a little. 

Those huge baby blues were simply too mesmerizing for him not to be at least a little interesting. 

He takes a step away from the mic, cheeks flushed pink from all the attention. "My name is Troye Sivan," he smiles almost shyly, "and I’m going to sing 'Creep' by Radiohead." 

The music begins. Troyes lips part. 

And he sings. Only ‘singing’ is an understatement to what this boy is doing. He isn’t just singing, but intertwining his own demons into the words. His voice is raw and powerful, like an ancient god long held in captivity. 

The music makes the base of Tyler’s spine tingle. He hits all the high notes, twists his voice into a form of mysticism. 

 

Tyler has never seen a more beautiful creature in his life. His eyes are shut, his head is tilted back. There is fire in his blood, Tyler decides. Right now, he is a god and the audience are his disciples. 

 

"Whatever makes you happy,  
Whatever you want,  
You're so fucking special,  
I wish I was special...  
But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo,  
What the hell am I doing here?  
I don't belong here,  
I don't belong here."

He steps down, the club erupts into applause. 

Tyler’s eyes are wide, his cheeks are flushed. He looks thoroughly fucked and no one has touched him. 

He licks his lips and smooths back his hair, "So, he’s single?" 

Dan just smiled.

 

*

He meets him a 2nd time backstage. Tyler's been going to this nameless club for 2 weeks now. Just to see Troye’s face, just to hear his voice. 

Dan gets him backstage and he’s never felt more nervous in his life. His palms are sweating, he is sure his face is red. His nerves are teeming. 

 

“You seriously look like you’re about to puke,” Dan says. 

 

“Good to know I look as stellar as I feel,” Tyler sighs, smooths his hair back. He was going to try not to vomit on this gorgeous man’s shoes. Troye was a person, meaning he could be conversed with. 

 

“Just don’t over think it,” Dan’s reassuring hands are suddenly pushing him forward, “Good luck!” 

 

Oh dear fuck, Dan’s back is retreating from his spot near Tyler. He can’t think, he can’t breath. He’s suddenly hyper aware of his legs. The skin on his muscles, the muscles on his bones, the bones that will not fucking move. 

 

One step at a time, one step at a time. He moves to the back of them room, where Troye is sitting among other musicians. He’s packing up his microphone and suddenly Tyler is two feet from him. 

 

Troye looks up from the case. He looks almost scared. 

"Hi," he chokes out before Tyler can get a word in, "I’m Troye. Well, I guess you kinda knew that. Um, yeah, I’ve seen you around a lot. You always sit in the far back and you always get red wine...which is fine I don’t drink though. I’m only 20 and you’re probably way more mature. Oh god, that’s not to say you’re old or anything! You look super young. Still, not like me though I look like a baby elf. Um, did I mention I’m Troye?" 

Tyler's cheeks ache. He hasn’t smiled in a long time and he isn’t used to it. He sticks his hand out. Troye takes it and his hand shakes. 

"My name is Tyler." 

"Tyler," Troye repeats, "Tyler. Tyler. Tyler. You finally have a name." 

"Why’s that so important?" 

"Because I like having a name to the face I keep dreaming about," and then his face turned maroon and Tyler swore the kid almost threw up. 

Tyler just laughed, "Oh my god, you’re so precious." 

Troye looks over his shoulder at a dark skinned girl packing up her cello. She smiles and makes the motion for him to continue. 

"Do you...do you want to get coffee later?" 

Tyler smiles at him and the girl over his shoulder, "Honey, I would love to."

*

And that’s how Tyler wound up in a coffee shop at 3am. But it was totally worth it because Troye Sivan with hazelnut breath and sleepy blue eyes was better than a goodnight’s sleep. 

They had talked for way too long. The waitresses had already changed shifts twice, they’d eaten them out of 17 dollar brownies, and Tyler was 75 percent sure he was in love. 

"So," Troye takes a languid sip from his cup, "I sing. We’ve established that. What do you do for a living?” 

"I make youtube videos," Tyler smiled bitterly. He was used to people telling him his job wasn’t real, that he shouldn’t have dropped out of high school. But Troye grinned. 

"Seriously?" he shook his head, "I couldn’t do that. I really couldn’t. Alessia helps me keep up with tips and stuff from gigs and that’s complicated enough. But dealing with ad revenue, sponsors, and the whole algorithm thing? I couldn’t do that!" 

Okay 85 percent sure he was in love.


	2. kiss me on the mouth and set me free.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They get high in the desert...

“Just staring at the phone isn’t going to make it ring!” Alessia sighed at her roommate. 

Troye didn’t move though, he stared at the iPhone. His notepad and pen lay neglected beside him. His mind had been consumed with Tyler and almosts and maybes. There was no room for poetry. 

The girl groaned and hit him with a pillow. 

“Hey!” Troye cried out. 

“Call him. Text him. Do something!” She threw her hands up, “God,do anything besides looking like a kicked puppy!” 

“So violent!” The skinny Australian sat up, “I bruise like a peach!” 

“You have the game of one too,” She glanced at him, “Didn’t he give you his number, like, weeks ago?” 

He had. Tyler had shown up backstage since that first night. It was something Troye looked forward to during his long work week. Making music and Tyler’s seafoam eyes. But being outside the club was too real. Like opening up the windows in a smoke filled room. Something between them might change. They air around them would turn and everything would be wrecked before it even got started. 

“You go to the desert to get ideas, don’t you?” Alessia shrugged, “Ask him to take you. Smoke some. Drink some. Flirt a little.”

“Alessia, you should be a pinboard of Cute Date Ideas,” Troye smiled. 

“And you’re lame. Get laid, you dork!”

ii

It’s 2 am. Tyler knows this because the numbers glare at him, mockingly. But editing a video, despite the horror, isn’t something that can be easily ignored. Getting a text this late is a shock. Tyler expects spam or maybe an amber alert. 

What he gets instead is Troye asking him, “Drive me to the desert?” 

He blinks, waits a few seconds and Troye texts back, “I have weed if that sweetens the deal. Creative soul searching, you know how it is.” 

So Tyler’s suddenly driving to the Mojave Desert, Troye in the passenger seat picking at the hole in his jeans, a notepad on his lap. 

Tyler tried not to get too excited at the notion of being alone with Troye. All alone. With nothing but the wind, and sand, and nocturnal animals to keep them company. 

There was a shock up his spine. His pulse quickened. His hands were tingling. It felt like a first date. 

But it wasn’t. There was no way it was...because Troye wouldn’t said something about it and Tyler had sworn off committed relationships. 

No one wanted to commit and that was fine, he’d save himself the heartbreak of trying. 

But watching Troye’s eyebrows furrow in thought made Tyler want to reconsider. 

He parked where Troye deemed acceptable. They filed out of Tyler’s truck, Troye carrying his duffel bag and notepad and Tyler with his fast beating heart. 

Troye’s eyes smiled in the moonlight, as cliche as that sounds, “I was scared you wouldn’t be up.” 

Tyler snorted, “I’m always awake. I never sleep,” He turns away, “My ex used to call me his nocturnal animal.” 

“Ex?” 

“I don't want to get into it.” 

“He sounds a bit like a cunt, pardon, but if you don't want to talk about him he must've been a cunt.” 

Tyler didn't bother to correct him. Instead, he laughed. Troye smiled and unzipped his duffel. He unfolded a blanket for them to sit on, then took out rolling paper and the bag. 

Tyler’s eyes darted to it, “I thought you were a ‘baby elf?’” 

“Baby elves sometimes need a little extra help to get some work done.” His lithe fingers opened the paper. He opened the bag of the ground (Not Really A Drug, But Still It’s Really Illegal In Some States. Don’t Do Drugs, Kids.) drug. He dispensed it evenly along the length of the fold. 

Tyler had seen this done a quarter of a million times, but watching Troye do it held some magic. Like watching Peter Pan snort coke off a hooker’s ass. A sort of vile fairytale gone wrong. 

He rolled the mix and added the filter. He folded, tucked, and held it up in triumph. 

“It almost never comes out looking this good,” He smiles and tilts it toward Tyler, “You want the first hit?” 

“Sure,” Troye lit it and Tyler inhaled. The scent of Earth clung to the back of his throat. He let it settle in his lungs, his brain, before exhaling. Gray clouds billowed out of his parted lips. Troye looked longingly at the marijuana cigarette dangling from Tyler’s pale fingers. Then back up at Tyler’s lips. 

“You want to-?”

Troye nodded. Tyler took another hit and beckoned him over. He inched closer, lips parted. God, his mouth was so pretty. Like petals of a flower opening up to drink in the sun. He feed the smoke into Troye. He was so close, their foreheads was touching. 

He could kiss him if he really wanted. 

Troye’s eyes were closed and his face was open and unguarded. It was already like they were. Blue and purple veins played leapfrog under milky skin. Tyler had to physically restrain himself from closing the gap between them. 

Luckily, Troye did it for him. It wasn’t a real kiss, more just lips brushing together. It still sent fire straight through his skin. Such a small gesture threatened to unravel him. The smaller of the two pulled away and smiled at Tyler. 

“You’re really pretty, did you know that?” Tyler blushed horribly as Troye plucked his notepad up. 

The desert air wasn’t frigid around them. It ghosted over their skin like a glossy blanket. The sweet sharp smell of night and smoke calmed Tyler’s raging nerves. The stars twinkled above them like winking eyes. 

The world around them was calm and collected. They were the center of the Earth, everything fell in line around them. Tyler breathed in the atmosphere around them, let it soak his insides before he fell back on the blanket they sat on. 

Troye filled in the gap beside him. His body fit perfectly into Tyler’s and he tried really hard not to think about what that meant for them. For him. 

“Do you ever just feel,” Troye gnawed at his lower lip, “...small?”

“Hmm?” 

“Like the universe doesn’t care about your problems. It’s too big and infinite to make time for you. It’s too worried about raising and sustaining itself.” 

“Sometimes,” Tyler said. He accidentally buried his face in the fluffy, flower scented hair of Troye. 

“It makes the your life seem kinda pointless,” He snuggled deeper into Tyler’s chest, “Makes you wonder if it’s worth living.”

“Suicide’s even more pointless, then.” 

“Now it’s my turn to say, ‘hmm?’” 

Tyler chuckled, “Well, think about it. Do you know anything about Greek mythology?” 

Troye made a noise of affirmation. Tyler continued, “Sisyphus pushed the boulder up the hill and watched it fall over and over and over again. His life had no meaning. He just pushed it up the hill every time it fell.” 

“Did he ever kill himself?” 

“Nope. He just kept pushing all his life,” He looked at Troye, “Some people say that he was smiling the whole time.” 

“Why?” 

“His burden was from the gods,” He couldn’t help but kiss his hairline, “It made him feel special.” 

Barely audible, Troye replied, “You make me feel special…” 

Tyler chuckled. Something inside of him was slowly melting and he found he didn’t particularly mind. 

Right now, all that mattered was the desert and the comforting warmth of Troye’s body against his own.


End file.
